


No more I love yous (language is leaving me)

by mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)



Series: Heart & Pitch [4]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love, Morning After, Romance, Sexual Content, sapfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity
Summary: The conclusion to Heart & Pitch series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a couple of weeks. I hope you like it.

They were supposed to have the talk. After – that first night.

It never happens.

 

 

Mike wakes up squinting at the glaring sunlight that made his head feel like shit, and to the sound of rummaging.

“Baker, get back to bed.” He groans and rolls to face away from the sunlight. It doesn’t seem strange that he can sense that it’s her. That, even though he’s feeling sick and gross, he’s also feeling mighty sated.

Her sharp gasp has him crack an eye open.

She’s clutching her clothes in a crumpled mess to her chest, the bra hanging out like a tail. Her wild curls are a bigger mess than he remembers them. She’s wided eyed, staring at him. Like she can’t believe he’s awake.

He swallows and winces as he raises his head up, propping up and elbow to support his head.

She looks like she feels like hell – but Mike thinks that this is the best sight he’s seen first thing in the morning in years. Her body’s illuminated in a lovely way in the sunlight. Her collar bones seem like they’ve been carved out of marble and buffed perfectly.  

\- he smiles sleepily.

(It couldn’t have been good for her, to be lying in that one position, her on her back, pinned under his weight, her hips spread-out, cradling him in her arms and legs. He knows he damned nearly suffocated her. He just passed out, contented and exhausted, partially aware of her under him. His eyes opened once, when he realized the lights were still on.

He distastefully realized that he’d drooled right there, all over her breasts.

He didn’t know if it was the heaviness in his head, or the comfort of being there with her. He couldn’t bring himself to detach so he did wiped off the congealed drool with his beard grinning idiotically when he heard her giggle unconsciously. She was ticklish – even in her sleep. He adjusted himself to ease his weight off her, snuggling back into her chest, listening to her quiet heartbeat –

He never bothered to reach for the lights.)

“Baker?” He croaks, his mouth tasting raw. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for – um – my panties”

His mind flashes an image of his hands rolling them down her writhing muscled thighs. Fuck – he’s getting hard again. “I think they’re under the sheets somewhere.” He mutters.

“You – you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Me…? Us?”

Mike’s eyes snap open wide. He sits up.

“Why? Was I in an accident or something?” He looks around checking to see if he’s really awake. He’s not in a hospital. He’s in his mess of a bed – the lights are still on but outshined by the day sun. His body feels like it legitimately was involved in sexual activity the night prior. He blinks at her. She looks a little annoyed.

Ginny purses her lips and a comical expression overcomes her.

“What?” He says, rubbing his face and scratching his beard. “C’mon! You’re freaking me out!”

She chuckles softly. Her grip relaxing on that bunched bundle of clothes she’s clutching to her chest. She sighs and shakes her head, smiling. Mike thinks she looks lovelier when she smiles.

“No, I thought you wouldn’t remember last night.” She says.

“Why wouldn’t I remember?” He says, finding it preposterous. He falls back into bed and stretches. “We were…” He starts to says but trails off, smiling up at the ceiling, remembering how sweet her moans sound.

“We were drunk.” She says, earning a look from him. She’s chewing on her lower lip nervously.

Probably that’s why they did it just the one time, he reckons. It was _so_ good – like really mindblowing sex level - right up at the top of the list.

She shrugs. “I – I think I took advantage of you.”

Mike barks out a laugh and then looks at her fondly. “Get back in bed make it up to me.”

She chews her lower lip nervously.

“Or…” He says. “Get back in bed and take advantage of me again.”

The tension is gone. She sighs out, and her shoulders relax. She smoothes her hair back, pouting pensively.

“Don’t wave me off, rookie.” He says, rolling his head back, looking up at the ceiling, smiling smugly.

Waiting.

Mike’s smile breaks into a wide mouthed grin when he feels the mattress dip. His head doesn’t hurt so much anymore when she straddles him and that lovely face comes into his view.

 

 

“I don’t wanna have the talk, right now.” She whispers into his chest while he traces figures of eight over her back.

He’s in the middle of a mental debate when she says that. He’s thinking over whether he loves having her on top facing him ( – it’s easier on his knees and by all that his holy – what a beautiful sight it is. Watching her throw her head back, that loud husky whine as she slides over the rigid shaft of his cock. He was just hypnotized by her movements – the way she rolled her hips, the way she grappled at his shoulders and jerked down, the way her body fell forward, lining her breasts up against his chest while she continued to rock – those loud lustful noises filling his ears) or whether he loves having her under him (writhing and gasping his name, biting into his shoulder when she comes). Mike’s thinking how the sex with her was like practicing for a big game – exhilarating, encouraging and getting better each time.

They’re lying on the floor, beside the bed – because ( - twice on the bed, the third time he wanted to go missionary again, to prove a point that clearly wasn’t worth proving -) she wrestled them into toppling on to the floor, where unwittingly Ginny ends up on top and they go all the way.

They just stay there, giggling like fools, completely spent. Ginny’s not even complaining about being hungry – and its almost noon.  

It’s huge achievement – given how much that girl eats.

“Yeah – me neither.” Mike says, smiling in his post-sex haze.

“It’s like…” She lifts her head up, her curls tumbling down over his chest. “It’s like all this would be over.” She says.

Mike threads his fingers, pushing her hair out of her face. She leans her head into his palm as he keeps the hair fixed behind his ear.

Her eyes are radiant; her cheeks are pink. The small dimples at the corners of her mouth deepen. She looks hopeful.

“I know it would be a bad idea if – if we _didn’t_ talk.” She says. She picks at his beard, painlessly.

“Yes, it would.” He says. She pouts her lips, like she does when she’s thinking over something. He cranes his neck up and kisses her.

She licks into his mouth, he bites at her lips. Mike doesn’t know what to say.

So he doesn’t say anything.

All he knows is – he doesn’t want it to end, either.

They don’t have the talk.

 

 

There’s a whole sense of urgency, and a whole other sense of how perverse it is – and it turns them both on. Most of their intercourse is fast and hard – mostly on stolen time.

When they’re at that point where they can do it without breaking the surface they’re using for support, when it becomes slow and gentle – when he knows the exact spot where he can angle into – and just get her to climax while staying still  – when tears slip down her eyes as she crashes into ecstasy – he knows – he know she feels it too. She doesn’t say it – but she looks at him, with that deep, pained and tormented look.

Like she knows she’s already off the edge on this one. Like there’s no going back. Like she’s in love with him, too.

She doesn’t say it. He doesn’t need to hear it.

They don’t have the talk.

 

 

 

He whispers it. They’re on the road, and he basically sneaks into her room in the middle of the night. They don’t have a game next day – so he doesn’t feel guilty about keeping her up. He pulls her on top of him (because after months of trying out every position humanly possible – he’s finally settled on that one) and watches her as she fucks him. The amber lights filtering through the window illuminate her face just enough for him to see those magical expressions. Her eyebrows knit just as she’s grinding down on him in those last few climactic moments. He sits up without warning, grabbing her waist holding her back from plummeting back – she cries out and he feels it too – the way the head of his cock is hitting a blind end – he’s so deep inside her that it’s a point where pleasure and pain start to cross over for both of them – but he can’t stop. He digs his outstretched palm into the bed for support and bites at her collarbone as her body starts throbbing.

“I love you.” He whispers into her skin.

He’s not sure if she heard it. He’s not sure she even processed it if she did.

They don’t have the talk.

 

 

There are nights where there’s no sex.

Either one of them’s too tired, or both of them are or Ginny’s on her period (and though it’s not a big deal for him, that’s where she’ll draw the line as far as kinks are concerned) or they’re simply not in the mood (apparently that can actually happen).

They just hang out like an old couple as though they’ve been together since the stone age.

They’ll watch TV, they’ll cook (he cooks, she watches). They joke and laugh a lot. They talk about their loves, their heartaches, their victories, their bests and worsts.

Sometimes she surprises him with the things she says. Like – she wants to have three children (when Mike thought she’d never want to more than one) or that she’d like to coach inner-city kids after retirement (when Mike thought she never even thought of a life beyond baseball). Sometimes they talk about their careers – Mike will listen to her hopes and dreams, wistfully.

They have a thirteen-year age gap. She can’t stand his choice of music, and he can’t stand her taste in movies. She hogs the sheets and he’ll leave wet towels on the bed just to piss her off.  They fight over stupid things. Sometimes they have make-up sex, the rest of the times they’re too mad to be in the same room.  But like two polar magnets, they come back together without reservation. There’s no need for apologies or dramatic gestures of love.

It’s the most mature relationship he’s had in his entire life. And they’re not even technically _in_ a relationship.

 

 

It amazes Mike how they both manage to keep it out of their routine lives. Although the looming spectre of ‘the talk they should have’ is always there.

Strangely, the minute they’re ready to go in to work, both their brains go on hyper alert – they’re entirely focussed on the game. They deliberately switch off the parts of their minds that have been traded to each other. Somehow without words, they know they can’t fuck about at work or in public. There can’t be any of those glances, those pining looks can’t happen. They can’t be seen together in any way that rouses suspicion. They can’t talk to each other the way they do when they’re alone.

Once, when he’s alone in the locker room with Ginny. She looks at him and that mischievous look crosses her face. He steps forward, so does she – but then he stops. He shakes his head at her. She smiles at him, unoffended.

They do a lot of adventurous fucking that night – but they don’t talk about how they almost crossed the line. If they’re found out – they may never be able to work together again. He doesn’t want to make the choice between having her on the team or in his bedroom. He wants both.

“You’re too important to me.” Is all he says. It applies to both parts of his lives.

He suppresses the stabs of jealousy, when Ginny goofs around with the other guys. He ignores the pangs of longing, when she’s whisked away for her sponsor commitments. He holds back whenever the overpowering desire to become protective or defensive of her take over. He dismisses the frustration he feels, when she gets attention from movie stars, rappers or anyone who is younger than him, better looking that he is – and sure as hell more deserving of her.

Ginny follows his lead. There are the occasional stolen looks and smiles, but she’s pretty solid for the most part.

Mike suspects Blip knows – because he keeps throwing them angry looks every time he stumbles upon them in a proximity more than a foot. He even physically deliberately wedges himself between them, scowling at them both.

“Did you tell Evelyn?” He asks her, one night just before he shoves her sweatshirt over her shoulders.

“Nope. Did you tell Blip?” She asks, helping and then grabbing his face to kiss him.

“Nope.” He mutters just as her lips smash against his.

They don’t talk for a while after that.

 

“How are we pulling this off?” She says, between heavy breaths, after he’s made love to her with his mouth.

“I dunno.” He grunts as he crawls up to her eye level.

“We need to have that talk don’t we?”

“Yeah.” He says and reaches for her.

They don’t have the talk.

 

 

Amelia accuses him of using her when she finds out. She attacks him. “You’re more interesting now whenever your name is attached to hers. When this comes out – your name’s going to be the one that sinks her.”

Mike thinks on some level she’s right.

He should talk to her. They have to discuss what they’re doing.

But it’s a fight waiting to happen if and when they do discuss it. He wants her, she wants him. He wants the game; she wants the game. Everything points to their relationship ending up a failure.

But – ‘the talk’ is like the ultimate thing that will end them – that’s what Mike fears.

So - they don’t have the talk.

 

 

Rachel finds out. That fuckin’ cocksucker Trevor Davis knows. Blip’s suspicions are confirmed and now Evelyn knows.

“We’re screwed.” She hisses at him, as he leads her away from the snafu they got themselves stuck in.

He realizes he’s not ready to let this go. He’ll fight it, even if means he’ll be changing laws in baseball.

“I’ve got you.” He says, gearing up to face all the worst case scenarios.

 

They rush out of the party.

He plans how to start the talk but the way she looks at him in the car. So young and so worried – he can’t help but reach for her. She climbs on top of him in the driver’s seat – the horn blares as her back arches onto it drowning out her scream of pleasure.

There’s a chance that this might end – even if he does fight for it.

He can’t let it go. So he takes her home and makes love to her, slow and sweet.

 

“If I really loved you, I wouldn’t have crossed this line.” He says, not looking at her. He speaks the words, into the dark.

They’re lying in each other embrace. Her fingers intertwine with his. Things are bound to change tomorrow. They should be resting, but they can’t be anywhere else.

“If I really loved you, I would know that this is the worst thing I could do to you. That I am the worst thing that could happen to you.”

“You sound like Amelia.”

“Amelia’s a smart woman.”

She speaks after a long silence. “We never made any commitments.”

“But I did.” He says, pulling her closer. “I made a commitment – the first time I saw you. I made a commitment the first time we kissed – and I made a commitment that first night. You’re not allowed to hurt the ones you love. And I will hurt you –“

“By leaving?”

“By staying.”

He hears the sharp intake of breath. Thing is - she never misunderstands him – they’re strangely connected where even if they’re talking crap, they know what the other is saying.

“Your destiny is bigger than mine will ever be.” He says. “You deserve better than what I can offer you. Being with me –“ He sighs and echoes Amelia’s words. “Being with me will drag you down.”

“I’d never stop you from leaving if you wanted to.” She says. He feels her lips on his shoulder.

“I’m not good at anything else Ginny. If you take away baseball, you’re stuck with a bitter old man who’s terrible with money and not as smart as you.”

“Don’t sell yourself so short.”

“Would you still love me, if I left baseball?” He says. “Would you still look at me the same way?”

“Why leave the game because of this?”

“I’d leave the game – _for_ \- this. _For_ you. To be with you.”

She lifts her head. Mike can barely make out the silhouette of her face. He sees the whites of her eyes and her teeth, when she clasps his chin and makes him look at her. He feels her hair brushing over his skin, like it does so often. He feels the softness of her lips when she rubs them against his own.

“Then, there’s no hurry.” She whispers.

“But would you still feel the same way about me?” He says – because he’s never felt more uncertain about anything else.

She soothingly strokes his forehead and cheek. “I happen to like bitter old men.” She replies.

She doesn’t tell him she loves him. He doesn’t need to hear it.

They never have the talk.

He realizes – years later – that of all the talks they’ve had – this was the one talk they never needed.


End file.
